


The Downfall

by Aneiria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ABO, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Biting, Chasing, Dark, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Harry Dies, Hermione is captured, Hunting, Knotting, Omega Hermione Granger, Omegaverse, Outdoor Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Voldemort is getting more powerful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24054610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneiria/pseuds/Aneiria
Summary: Omegas were a rarity nowadays. Plenty of alphas were still born, especially in the ranks of the pureblooded, but omegas were few and far between.Hermione hadn’t known what was wrong with her when she’d suddenly come over with a burning fever, an itchy throat and a raging libido in the middle of her and Harry’s tent that first time about three months ago. Harry had been equally clueless, pressing a cold compress to her forehead, blushing red and pushing her away as she begged him to fuck her to stop the pain. In the end, he’d warded her in the tent by herself, leaving her alone until she emerged a few days later, pale and ashamed and confused.It hadn’t taken the Death Eaters long to work out just what was wrong with her – or right with her, the way they saw it...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 71
Kudos: 874





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS FOR THIS FIC.
> 
> This is a dark ABO fic with EXTREMELY dubious consent / non-con elements and ABO elements such as knotting, biting and mating. Please be aware if any of this concerns you.
> 
> Having said that, if you choose to read I hope you enjoy! I have PLANS (TM) to expand this into a multi-chapter fic, so if you enjoy it and you'd be interested in reading more, please consider leaving a comment to let me know! 
> 
> Huuuuuuuuuge thanks to the wonderful [Grace Lou Freebush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace_lou_freebush/pseuds/grace_lou_freebush) for both the alpha and the beta on this - my writing is improving every time I work with you and I am so grateful for your help! ❤️

Hermione’s lungs burned with exertion as she collapsed against a nearby tree. She clutched the stitch cramping her side as her eyes swam with tears. She held her wand loosely in her hand, but she didn’t dare put it away. Her unruly hair had come loose from its ties shortly after she’d been released into the forest earlier that evening, and she ignored it now as she gulped in breaths of cool night air. 

‘You can’t hide from us, little omega,’ a rough, cold voice called from far behind her. ‘We can smell your delicious cunt from here.’ 

Hermione choked down a sob and pushed herself off the tree, ignoring the pain in her lungs and her side and running further into the trees. 

Omegas were a rarity nowadays. Plenty of alphas were still born, especially in the ranks of the pureblooded, but omegas were few and far between. 

Hermione hadn’t known what was wrong with her when she’d suddenly come over with a burning fever, an itchy throat and a raging libido in the middle of her and Harry’s tent that first time about three months ago. Harry had been equally clueless, pressing a cold compress to her forehead, blushing red and pushing her away as she begged him to fuck her to stop the pain. In the end, he’d warded her in the tent by herself, leaving her alone until she emerged a few days later, pale and ashamed and confused. 

It hadn’t taken the Death Eaters long to work out just what was wrong with her – or _right_ with her, the way they saw it. 

Lucius Malfoy had made the realisation as she was held in the dungeon in Malfoy Manor after Harry had been taken before the Dark Lord. An alpha himself, she had later found out, and mated with one of the only omegas in his own generation, Lucius’s eyes had darkened ominously when he breathed in the scent of her that first time. He had since whiled away many hours telling her stories of alphas and omegas, taking a twisted pleasure in explaining the biological forces at play, the helplessness she would feel, the way she would beg even her worst enemy to fuck her senseless once her heat was upon her again. 

Hermione cursed as she tripped over a tree root, but she managed not to fall to the ground as she stumbled. _Fuck_. She bit back a cry and carried on running, knowing full well it was going to be hopeless in the end. 

‘There you are.’ 

Hermione whimpered as a dark figure stepped out from behind a nearby tree. She stumbled to a halt, her wand held in her trembling hand in front of her. He was huge, towering over her, shirtless and muscled. She recognised Adrian Pucey from school. Once she might have found him handsome, but now she could only think how cold and cruel he looked. His eyes flashed dangerously in the moonlight, and she took a small step back. 

‘Don’t come any closer,’ she called, more bravely than she felt.

Pucey’s grin widened. ‘Come now, little omega,’ he purred. ‘Don’t you want an alpha to take you and keep you safe through your heat? I can smell it rising in you. You know my dick will feel good buried deep inside you.’

He slowly and purposefully walked towards her, and Hermione felt herself torn between crippling fear and an aching desire for him to make good on his word. She raised her wand higher, and as he leaped towards her, shouted, ‘ _Bombarda maxima_!’ 

Hermione had been shocked when Lucius Malfoy had handed her a wand in the moments before he sent her into the forest. The relief must have been evident on her face because he had smiled coldly and explained how the alpha magic swirling in the veins of her hunters would protect them from most curses and hexes. Her having a wand just made the chase more fun, according to Lucius: the capture still inevitable, one lucky alpha’s chance to fuck her inescapable, and her execution at the end unavoidable.

But then Hermione was a very powerful witch. And she wasn’t giving in without a fight.

Pucey fell to the ground before her, and she ran past his prone form to head deeper into the trees. 

Hermione knew Harry was dead. Ron had not yet been captured as far as she was aware, but then no-one seemed to have heard from him since he had left her and Harry. If Voldemort wasn’t quite in full power yet, it seemed only a matter of time. The Order was decimated, spread out and flung to the wind. Lucius Malfoy had made sure the Daily Prophet ended up in Hermione’s possession every evening, where she poured over the news reports as they got darker and more desperate with each day that passed. 

The way the moonlight filtered through the trees that evening would have been beautiful under any other circumstances. Hermione was grateful only for the light it gave her. She didn’t know what her plan was. By her count there were five alphas in the forest arena with her, all of them former Slytherins, purebloods she’d been to Hogwarts with.

As if her thoughts alone had conjured him, Graham Montague barrelled out of the trees on her left and collided with her. 

Hermione fell with a cry of alarm, but she rolled easily and deftly, jumping back to her feet before Montague could scramble up again. 

Hermione threw out another _Bombarda Maxima_ , slashing her wand towards him, but he was clearly stronger than Pucey had been. Montague snarled in pain but clambered back to his feet, his pearly white canines shining in the moonlight. 

_Fuck_. In desperation Hermione cast a spell she hated: _Sectumsempra_. Montague growled and dropped back to his knees, small rivulets of blood blooming on his bare chest. She threw out a _Petrificus_ , the spell holding against the alpha magic now that she had weakened him. It would keep him away for the time being, at least. Hermione turned and fled. 

It had been Lucius Malfoy’s idea, as far as she was aware, to set her loose at the start of her heat. Every three months, he had explained, an unbred omega would go into a heat, animalistic and instinct driven, and any alpha within a three mile radius would scent her and would stop at nothing to find her. When Lucius could scent hers approaching, he released Hermione into the forest, the alphas sent in after to hunt her down. 

Hermione could feel her heat creeping upon her now, her skin and her insides getting hotter and hotter as she carried on running. A shiver ran down her spine and ended between her legs when she heard another vaguely familiar voice drift over from the trees. 

‘Carry on running, little one,’ it called. ‘I want you hot and dripping by the time I fuck you.’ 

Hermione dodged to the left, away from the voice, but to her horror she ran right into a solid body. Hands gripped her upper arms, and she dropped her wand as she was slammed against a nearby tree trunk. 

‘Found you,’ the alpha growled, and Hermione recognised Theo Nott from her years in Hogwarts. He leaned in close to her, his pupils dilated with lust and hunger, and breathed her in. ‘You smell fucking divine,’ he hissed, and he licked her throat directly on the scent gland that allowed the alphas to hunt her down, the scent gland that they would use to mark her as their own, the scent gland that all alphas and omegas had. 

She could smell the pheromones from Theo now, the delicious, tempting aroma of his arousal. Hermione whimpered at the feel of his tongue on her, not sure whether she was terrified or excited. The rational, panicked side of her brain shouted angrily, telling her to fight back, to kick him, to _bite him_ , to do whatever it took to escape.

The omega within her, however, had different ideas. It fluttered and begged and urged her to part her legs, to arch her back, to expose her throat to him. He smelled so good; he would take such good care of her; he would fuck her and protect her and fill her with his seed.

‘I can smell how aroused you already are,’ Theo whispered against her, shifting his grip on her so one large hand held both of her wrists above her head, the other one groping for her breast. ‘You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?’ 

Hermione whimpered and felt herself press into him, even as her mind fought against her instincts. Theo grabbed hold of her top, a silk blouse in a dark green that she was sure had been chosen by one of the Slytherin alphas out of spite, and pulled it down, ripping it eagerly so her breasts were exposed to his gaze.

Theo was focused entirely on Hermione, but her omega picked up on the scent of another alpha nearby. As a dark shape approached them at speed, Hermione braced herself against the trunk of the tree. Theo didn’t seem to notice the other alpha until he slammed his whole body into Theo’s and threw them both to the floor, Hermione stumbling slightly as she was pulled down with them.

‘Fuck off, Zabini,’ Theo howled, wrestling the other man. ‘I had her first.’

‘No chance, Nott,’ Blaise Zabini snarled in response, and as they started punching and biting each other, Hermione leaped to her feet and fled again. She suspected Theo and Blaise would fight to the death unless someone stepped in to stop them. Four down, one to go.

Hermione had never run so much in her life, not even when trying to escape the Snatchers that had eventually captured her and Harry. She was far enough away that the sound of Nott and Zabini’s howls and snarls had all but disappeared when she realised in horror she’d left her wand behind with them on the forest floor. Hermione slowed to a walk, gasping in pain as a stitch burned again in her side and her heat burned in her core. 

She wanted to creep back, to try and find her wand and her only way of protecting herself. 

A more desperate part of her wanted to see which alpha had won the fight, to let that alpha take her. To look after her. She could feel herself dripping wantonly, feel the ache between her legs throbbing uncomfortably. She tried to fight against the omega crying out inside her.

‘Well, well.’

Hermione froze at the sound of the final voice, the one she knew better than any of the others. The one that had taunted her for years, called her the worst names imaginable. The one that now sent lustful shivers up and down her body. Hermione slowly turned in the clearing she was standing in, and her shoulders dropped in defeat and exhaustion as she came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

He was much bigger than she remembered from school. Alpha males tended to have a massive growth spurt when they presented, the alpha hormones causing havoc with their bodies. Malfoy was well over six foot, and broad, with muscled thighs and big hands that flexed at his side. Like the other alphas he was shirtless, and his abs and pecs rippled as he shifted his weight. The omega inside her cried out for him to cover her with his gorgeous body, to wreck her with his hands, to fuck her into submission. Hermione could barely hear her rational thoughts over the chaos in her mind.

Malfoy didn’t advance on her, didn’t try to pin her down like the others had. There was no need anymore.

Hermione’s heat had started.

She sobbed as she stood still, shaking slightly, watching Malfoy’s eyes drag over her. Her breasts heaved in the moonlight, her shirt in tatters from Theo’s earlier attack. Malfoy sniffed the air slightly, and his eyes darkened, and she knew he was scenting the arousal that flooded from her, the pheromones that her scent glands were releasing into the air, letting the whole world know she was ready to be taken.

‘My beautiful girl,’ Malfoy said triumphantly, taking a step forward.

Hermione whined and fought against the desire to drop to her knees before him. He reached her, his body hot and firm against hers, and trailed his hand over the line of her jaw, the slope of her neck, forcing her head backwards so he could breathe in her scent and lick the gland at her neck.

‘You’re mine now,’ he breathed out, and she arched into him, her omega purring in satisfaction. She didn’t move as he ripped her shirt off completely, his mouth falling on her breasts, licking her nipples so they stiffened, stroking the curves of her as she trembled and dripped and moaned.

‘I’ve never smelled anything as good as you,’ Malfoy said, and Hermione was distantly aware that he sounded just a touch confused. A part of her realised his alpha was pushing Malfoy’s wants aside just as much as her omega was with hers.

With a growl and enough presence of mind to use wandless magic, Malfoy vanished her remaining clothes with a swipe of his hand and then, with another move, vanished his own, leaving them both completely naked. Hermione’s omega whined in desperation as Malfoy’s cock, huge and already rock hard, sprung free.

‘I’m going to fuck you, my beautiful omega,’ Malfoy said, and his voice was like honey to her. ‘And you’re going to beg me for it.’

Hermione was breathing heavily from a mixture of running for her life and the intense arousal running through her body, her eyes locked helplessly on his. Even if she still had her wand, there would be nothing she could do - _would_ do - anymore. She rose onto her tiptoes, desperate to taste him, and he picked her up by the waist like she weighed nothing. Holding her up against him, she instinctively dragged her tongue across his scent gland, wanting to mark him as her own, causing him to hiss and his dick to twitch against her thigh. He set her back down on the ground, and she looked up at him adoringly, waiting for his command.

‘On your knees, darling girl,’ Malfoy growled, and she sank to them obediently. He walked around her, his hand brushing against her hair, and fell to his knees behind her. ‘I want you on all fours,’ he whispered, pushing her firmly between her shoulder blades so she fell forward. She shivered again as she felt his hands run down her back, cup her ass and then trail down the backs of her thighs.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, his voice suddenly surprisingly gentle. ‘And your pretty pink cunt is glistening for me.’

Hermione gasped as his tongue swept along her folds, his big hands gripping the cheeks of her ass and holding her open so he could taste her. His tongue was relentless, and with her heightened sense of smell, she could scent his arousal entwined in the air with the scent of hers. She groaned and dropped her head as she felt her cunt pulse and tighten, his hands gripping so hard she was sure to bruise. She came with a loud cry and a sob, collapsing down onto the ground as far as she could with Malfoy holding her hips in place.

He pulled his face away from her pussy, and she felt the head of his dick press against her. Hermione’s toes curled, and her omega whimpered, and she could bear it no longer. Her heat was driving her mad, her cunt ached to be filled, and all she could smell was the virile, comforting scent of an alpha in his prime ready to fuck her.

‘Oh gods,’ she whined, speaking for the first time. ‘Please, I need you.’

She heard Malfoy purr from behind her, and his dick pressed a little harder against her folds. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking it so her head craned back.

‘Tell me how much you want me, my beautiful omega,’ he commanded, his alpha tone a low timbre that set fire to her nerves.

‘Please, alpha,’ she begged. ‘Please fuck me, I need you. I need your cock in me, please. Please take care of me.’ She was almost sobbing with desperation and desire, and she cried out into the still night as Malfoy pushed himself inside her, his girth stretching her wide, pushing himself inch by inch by inch until she was impaled upon him, her slick helping to take him in all the way. When he was seated fully in her, he released her hair with a moan.

‘Your cunt is so tight around my dick, little darling,’ he groaned. ‘Such a good girl for me, taking me completely. I can’t wait to knot in you, to stretch you completely, to fill you with my come.’

Malfoy started thrusting as he spoke, driving into her with an unforgiving hardness. Hermione pushed back against him, her omega desperate for more, for it to be deeper, harder, _faster_. And an alpha would never deny an omega in the midst of her heat. He pushed her breasts and face down into the dirt, fucking her into the ground the way she wanted. Everything drew tight as another orgasm started to build in her, and she moaned and whimpered and begged for more as she started to come again.

‘Fuck,’ Malfoy bit out, yanking her hair again to pull her up and sitting back on his heels so her back was pressed against his chest.

He thrust up once more, hard, and the fist in her hair tightened while his other hand splayed over her flat stomach, holding her to him. She could feel his dick starting to pulse as he came and his knot started to swell. She whined and squirmed, grinding herself against his groin to take him in as deep as she could until he was anchored inside her. Her cunt ached and throbbed as his cock filled and stretched her. Hermione threw her head back, exposing her mating gland to him.

‘Bite me,’ her omega demanded, any conscious thought now well and truly subdued. ‘Bite me, alpha, bite me.’

How could an alpha deny his omega? Without hesitation Malfoy bared his teeth and bit down, _hard_.

As his teeth broke the skin, Hermione gasped at the unexpected orgasm that ripped through her body with a burst of stars behind her eyelids, bright white light flooding her senses, every nerve tingling and singing. An alpha orgasm lasted several minutes, Hermione had learned from Lucius - who’d taken great delight in terrorising her with everything she could look forward to in the forest - pumping as much come into the omega as they could to maximise the chance for a successful breeding. 

Malfoy pulsed harder, still emptying himself inside her, as his knot reached its full size and locked into her. When Malfoy finally stopped coming, he gently lowered them both to the ground, her back to his chest, and curled around her protectively. His tongue licked the bleeding gland, soothing her, and his hands ran all over her body, as if memorising her lines and curves, as they stayed locked together in the dirt.

Hermione’s heat finished several days later. She slowly became lucid, her body exhausted and her mind weak, but the first thing she was aware of was the tingling at her neck. With a shaking hand, she reached up to brush the scent gland, unable to stop the sharp intake of breath when she felt the bite marks there.

She felt someone shift sleepily against her back and pull her deeper into an embrace, and she didn’t need to see him to know who it was. Draco’s scent curled around her, warm and comforting and familiar. She felt her heart pulse for him, her body react to his presence, and she realised with horror that with one bite, she and Draco Malfoy had become inseparable mates, their lives entwined together. 

Even though her omega side was quiet, sated for now, she could still feel the compulsion towards Draco, her submission to him. She knew she would die to defend him, that he would do the same for her, even as her logical mind rebelled against such a realisation.

She had hazy memories of him cradling her in the dirt, covering her in kisses and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She could feel the dull ache between her legs, the bruises from his fingers and his teeth on her skin as he had taken her again and again. She remembered begging for it, begging Draco for it.

With that one bite, her life had been saved, and her life was now over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘We have to go back to my father,’ Draco said quietly, and Hermione trembled and shook her head.
> 
> ‘Malfoy, please, no – he’ll kill me,’ she begged, and his eyes softened. He leaned in and kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips against hers. 
> 
> Hermione screwed her eyes shut, cringing as his lips met hers.
> 
> ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you, Hermione,’ Draco repeated, his voice firm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> So firstly, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who kudosed and commented on the first part of this - I can’t understate how much of an encouragement it is and how grateful I am to you all! I hope you’ll forgive me for not responding to comments like I usually do, but I thought you’d prefer it if I spent my time on the next chapter instead….
> 
> On that note, I just want to warn you that although I have a rough outline and know where this fic is going, there will be no regular update schedule like my other pieces - I will be posting as and when I have a chapter ready, so please be patient and make sure you either subscribe or follow me on [Tumblr](https://aneiria-writes.tumblr.com/) to get updates!
> 
> Finally, please send lots of love to [Grace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace_lou_freebush/pseuds/grace_lou_freebush) and [Ashley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magical_traveler/pseuds/magical_traveler), who have been instrumental in getting this story continued - thank you both for all of the time spent reading, editing, and helping me work through the ideas and problems <3
> 
> Please enjoy!

Hermione took a deep breath and, as slowly as she could manage, started to turn in Draco’s arms, wanting to take a look at him without waking him.

Draco Malfoy was already awake.

He was watching her with careful, silver eyes, and now that she faced him, they flickered down to the bite mark on her neck.

‘Fuck.’

Hermione was frozen in his arms, hypnotised by his cold eyes. He made no move to release her, and despite his words, his lips were parted. For a moment Hermione held her breath, both desperate and terrified he was about to kiss her.

‘Malfoy? Where the fuck are you? Playtime’s over!’

Hermione sat up in alarm, the cold morning air chilling the bare skin that had been warmed by Draco’s body seconds before. Acutely aware of the fact that she was completely naked, she wrapped her arms around her body in an attempt to hide herself. She didn’t recognise the voice that called through the trees, but Draco clearly did, as he groaned when he heard it. He sat up with her, more slowly, before getting to his feet. Hermione tried to avoid staring at him too much. It had been dark that first night, and she was so overcome with terror and omega lust that she couldn’t really remember just stopping to look at him after that.

Long, loose limbs, marble-white skin with slabs of muscles rippling beneath. A casual elegance to his movements, as if in a previous life he’d been a dancer. When he turned to face her, running his fingers through his dishevelled hair, she kept her eyes strictly above chest level. This fact did not escape Draco’s notice, if his smug grin was anything to go by.

‘Malfoy? We’re here to take the Mudblood off your hands!’

Another voice, closer this time. Hermione felt a bubble of panic begin to form, but Draco grasped her arms and looked her in the eye.

‘Stay behind me.’ He interlaced his words with the alpha timbre that made her legs weak. ‘I’m not going to let them hurt you.’

Before she could reply, three men entered their clearing, and Draco turned to face them, keeping Hermione to his back.

They looked like Snatchers, unkempt and scruffily dressed. Their poor postures and sneering grins appeared even more pathetic in the presence of the naked, towering, elegant alpha that was Draco. He faced them, his body between them acting as a shield, protecting Hermione’s modesty while being unashamed by his own nudity.

Hermione’s straying eyes knew he had nothing to be ashamed of: even flaccid, his dick was so huge it had Hermione marvelling at how Draco had managed to sink it into her over and over again during her heat. One of the Snatchers accidentally glanced at it now, his eyes widening and then hurriedly looking away.

‘Malfoy,’ the boldest Snatcher said, taking a step forward. ‘Your father sent us to bring you back. We’ll despatch the omega for you.’

Hermione gasped in alarm, and Draco’s hand reached back, nudging her to the side slightly so she was entirely hidden behind his broad body. Hesitantly, she moved forward and placed her hands on Draco’s back, taking comfort from his heat. He tensed slightly as he felt her touch but then relaxed again. She could no longer see the Snatchers, but when they spoke, she could hear the puzzlement in their voices.

‘It’s alright, Malfoy, you don’t need to trouble yourself with the Mudblood anymore.’

Draco growled - actually growled - deep in his chest. Hermione jumped, feeling the vibration rattle against her fingers through the back of his ribcage. Finally, Draco spoke.

‘If any of you lay so much as a finger on her, I will tear you limb from limb.’

The silence that followed was so tense it could be sliced with a Diffindo. No one moved for a moment, and Hermione cautiously peered around Draco’s arm again to see the three Snatchers watching him warily. Something shifted, and one of them sneered and raised his wand.

Draco moved faster than she could follow with her eyes, launching himself at the Snatcher, holding him down on the side of his neck with one hand and gripping his wand arm in the other. The Snatcher looked up in terror, and Hermione breathed out in horror when she realised what Draco was about to do.

‘Malfoy, NO—’ she gasped, but it was too late. In a single, easy move, Draco ripped the Snatcher’s arm off his body.

The Snatcher howled in pain, dropping to the ground, and Draco tossed the detached limb aside. Hermione felt her stomach lurch in terror, a sudden flashback of Ron being Splinched all those months ago racing through her mind. She knew that all the dittany in the world would not be enough to save the man in front of her.

‘Merlin, Malfoy—’ Hermione tried to dart around her alpha, her instinct being to at least try and help the man who writhed now on the blood-soaked ground, grasping his bleeding stump and crying in pain as his friends fell to their knees beside him. One of them dropped a bundle he’d been carrying, leaving it forgotten on the ground. Draco grabbed Hermione before she could leap forward, easily bundling her in his arms, holding her captive even as she fought against him. Draco ignored her struggles and turned to the Snatchers, his teeth bared.

‘Take him away before I kill him. Tell my father I will return shortly.’

With wide eyes and trembling limbs, the two Snatchers dragged their friend backwards through the trees.

Draco released Hermione, breathing heavily. His eyes flashed in anger, and she wasn’t sure if it was for the Snatchers or for her. She whimpered in horror as he reached for her again. His marble skin was spattered with bright red blood. She knew now how easily he could tear her apart if he wanted. She flinched and cried out as he raised a hand to her, but when he stroked her cheek and brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, his touch was gentle.

‘We have to go back to my father,’ he said quietly, and Hermione trembled and shook her head.

‘Malfoy, please, no – he’ll kill me,’ she begged, and his eyes softened. He leaned in and kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips against hers. Hermione screwed her eyes shut, cringing as his lips met hers.

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you, Hermione,’ Draco repeated, his voice firm. He picked up the bundle dropped by the Snatcher, and as he unfolded it Hermione could see a wand lying on top. 

Draco picked up the wand and pulled on the pair of trousers, but he handed Hermione the shirt, a cloak and the pair of boots. Thankful to be covered at last, she pulled on the shirt quickly, not caring if the buttons were done up oddly. The boots were far too big for her, but Draco crouched by her feet and waved his wand, charming them so they fit perfectly.

Standing up again, Draco took her hand, and she let herself be dragged along behind him. Between his alpha strength and the bond she felt pulling between them, she had no choice but to follow. 

At the edge of the forest, Draco dropped her hand to raise his wand and trace a pattern in the air, and Hermione realised from her months on the run that he was checking for wards. When the spell showed the area was clear, Draco held his hand back out for her. She hesitated, taking half a step back, and his eyes darkened.

‘Hermione.’ It was a warning in the deep rumbling alpha timbre that she seemed unable to disobey. Her body moved forward of its own accord, and as she reached her hand out for him, he took it and Apparated them both away from the arena.

They landed at the gates outside Malfoy Manor. Draco’s mouth settled into a grim line as he kept hold of Hermione’s hand and marched them towards the manor house. A low mist hung over the grounds, and in the distance a peacock called out with a murderous cry, sending a shiver down Hermione’s spine. If Draco noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Lucius Malfoy was waiting for them in his study, his rich, spicy scent overwhelming in the still room. Lucius took one sniff of them when they approached, his eyes dropped to Hermione’s neck, and he snarled in anger. 

‘Draco, you foolish boy,’ Lucius Malfoy hissed, grabbing him by the arm. This earned him a warning growl from his son. Draco was physically imposing, but then so was Lucius. The senior Malfoy stood an inch or two higher than his son and was slightly broader, but Draco was younger and his muscles coiled tighter and steelier than his father’s. The two alphas squared off silently against each other, until Draco visibly relaxed himself. 

‘I didn’t do it on purpose,’ he said darkly, keeping his eyes on Lucius. 

‘She was just supposed to be a plaything for a few days,’ Lucius didn’t bother to lower his voice, and Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in anger and humiliation. Lucius didn’t even acknowledge her presence. ‘What were you thinking?’ 

‘Nothing!’ Draco shouted back. ‘Surprisingly enough, it turns out that an alpha in the middle of a rut doesn’t give a fuck about blood status, Father.’ 

Lucius’s eyes were cold when they finally turned on Hermione again, lingering on the bite on her neck. 

‘What is your mother going to say?’ 

‘What is his mother going to say about what?’ 

A new voice, and a new scent, and Narcissa Malfoy swept into the room. Her hair and makeup and dress robes were impeccable, and she broke into a warm smile at the sight of her son. 

‘Draco, darling,’ she greeted him, opening her arms as she stepped forward to embrace him. Her nose twitched before she reached him, and her eyes slid past him and landed on Hermione. Narcissa came to a halt, her arms dropping. Draco tensed next to her. 

‘Ah. Miss Granger, I presume?’ Narcissa’s voice was a low purr, and she walked up to Hermione, her gaze landing on the bite mark still tingling at her neck. Hermione could practically hear the tension fizzling off Draco, but he stood as still as a statue watching them. Narcissa reached a hand for her cheek, and Hermione instinctively tensed and closed her eyes, waiting for a slap or worse. 

When no pain came, but instead a soft hand stroked her cheek, Hermione forced her eyes open again. Narcissa was looking at her with a strange look on her face. It took Hermione a moment to realise it reminded her of the look her own mother had given her the day Hermione’s Hogwarts letter had arrived - protective, apprehensive, and with that undecipherable emotion that only a mother’s face could show. Pushing aside the painful memory of her family, Hermione focused back on Narcissa’s scent, which completely engulfed her. 

Narcissa smelled _powerful_. Sweet, honeyed omega tendrils wafted around her, entwined with the spicy scent of Lucius. Any alpha or omega would know from a mile around that these two were mates. Was it the same for her and Draco now, Hermione wondered? Would her omega smell be wrapped around Draco’s smoky, mossy scent as much as their bodies had been wrapped around each other in the forest? 

Narcissa moved closer, snapping Hermione from her musings, and wrapped her in a warm but surprising embrace. 

‘Welcome to the family, my dear,’ the Malfoy matriarch murmured against her hair, and Hermione struggled to suppress a squeak of alarm. When Narcissa released her and stepped back, Lucius’s eyes flashed dangerously. 

‘Narcissa,’ he said, fixing her with a piercing glare. ‘You know what this means. The Dark Lord will be furious.’ 

Narcissa smiled at Hermione and then turned to her husband, her mate. She walked up to him, and he opened his arms for her even as he scowled. She pressed against him and reached up to lick the scent gland on his neck as if to soothe him. It seemed to work. Lucius closed his eyes for a second, and when they opened again, the scowl had gone.

Draco moved closer to Hermione while his parents embraced, standing behind her so his chest brushed against her shoulder blades, as if he couldn’t bear to be physically apart from her any longer. She huffed angrily at his presumption, even as she felt a warmth blossom inside at his touch. 

‘Lucius, dear,’ Narcissa said now. ‘Think this through. You know the lengths Draco will go to to protect his mate. He will do _anything_. Especially if she is in pain or distressed in any way. And _she_ will do the same for him. Can you think of no way in which the Dark Lord may come to appreciate such a bond in one of his top alphas?’ 

Hermione felt her blood chill slightly at Narcissa’s words, and it was made no better by the sharpening of Lucius’s eyes when he focused back on Hermione. He smiled coldly. 

‘Narcissa, my love, what would we do without you?’ he said sweetly, pulling her close and kissing her. Draco sighed, clearly used to his parent’s over-familiar display of affection. 

‘Draco, take Miss Granger to your rooms and get her settled. I’ll send my own house-elf up to measure her and take care of her wardrobe. Your father will see you back in his study in…’ at this, Narcissa turned to appraise her husband, making a decision. ‘…two hours.’ 

With that the Malfoys resumed their kiss, and Draco took Hermione’s hand in his and pulled her away. 

It seemed that Draco had an entire wing to himself in the manor. The corridor leading to his room was quiet and empty, with no sound except their own footsteps echoing on the stone. 

Draco’s room was as grand as expected, with a dark elegance to it that suited him. A four-poster bed draped in emerald green silks stood against one wall, and Hermione noticed a few silver-framed wizarding photographs on one mahogany bedside table. She itched to explore the room properly, to look for potential weapons, potential escape routes, but knew the time for that would come later, when - if - she was left alone. 

Instead she halted with her back to the bed, taking in the room around her. Draco watched her for a few moments as Hermione gazed around. A moment later he approached her, standing close to her without touching. She had to stop herself from leaning into his body. 

What was wrong with her? She had watched him practically murder a man with his bare hands earlier on! A tiny voice in the back of her head argued back that he’d only attacked the Snatcher to protect _her_ , however. 

‘You smell so good,’ Draco was saying now in a strangled voice, running a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t think I’m ever going to stop wanting you.’ 

‘Malfoy, stop it,’ she protested, stepping back until her legs hit the bed behind her. ‘This isn’t _you_ talking, not the real you.’ 

Draco ignored her, moving closer. 

‘Surely my darling, little Gryffindor isn’t scared?’ he purred, nuzzling her hair as his body pressed deliciously against hers. Hermione had to work very hard to shake her head. 

‘I’m not scared, Malfoy,’ she managed to spit out. ‘I’m disgusted. I don’t want to have sex with you!’ Even to her ears, the protest sounded weak. 

He just laughed, brushing away her hair so he could trail his lips along her neck, pausing to lick the scent gland as he did. Hermione shivered. 

‘Tell me you don’t want it,’ Draco said, his voice low and seductive. His hands found her hips, traced slow, lazy spirals onto her skin. ‘Tell me you don’t want me to pin you down on this bed and fuck you right now, and I won’t.’ 

This was unfair. ‘I—’ Hermione’s voice faltered, and Draco’s shark-like smile widened. She could see the sharpness of his canines, and her mind went blank as she remembered the feel of them biting into the softness of her skin. ‘I – I want—’ 

He pulled her closer, letting his hands slip under the cloak and caressing the curve of her ass before squeezing. She shivered again at the feel of his fingers on her bare skin, even as his lips pressed kisses on her neck and her collarbone. 

‘What do you want, little darling?’ he asked innocently, and she was gone. 

‘I want – you; I want you, please.’ She could hear how desperate her voice was, how eager, and she hated herself. 

‘I will never deny you,’ Draco swore as he lifted her as if she weighed nothing, laying her on the bed and crawling on top of her. ‘Anything you want, anything you desire, I will give to you.’ 

He carried on crooning unpromisable promises as he slowly undressed her, and she found her hands matched his, pulling at the trousers he wore until they were naked together once again. They hadn’t even had a chance to wash since her heat, and Hermione was vaguely aware of Draco’s eyes darkening in desire when he scented his seed still smeared over her body. He held her thighs apart and sank into her in one smooth move, and Hermione arched into him, surprised to realise that she was already soaked and ready for him. 

Draco growled with pleasure as he fucked her, and when his face fell to her breast and sucked a nipple into his mouth, Hermione moaned helplessly as well. 

Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips, angling him at a deeper angle, and he released her nipple and let his head fall against her temple.

‘So tight for me, my darling girl,’ he said, lifting his hands to grasp her wrists and hold her arms above her head. He secured them with one of his hands, and Hermione felt an electric thrill run through her body when she tried to pull against his grip and found herself completely helpless. Draco smiled and let his other hand drift between her legs, rubbing against her clit and pulling another moan from her lips.

A sudden crack of Apparition and a squeak of alarm from the room made Draco’s movements falter, and he dropped his hand from Hermione’s wrists to pull her safe against him. Hermione whipped her head around at the same time as he did, her heart beating frantically in her throat, her hand itching for her missing wand. A tiny house-elf stood with her hands pressed firmly against her eyes, a bottle rolling on the floor where she had clearly dropped it in alarm. 

‘Mistress Narcissa sent Libby to see Mistress Hermione!’ the house-elf stammered.

‘Get out, Libby!’ Draco growled, still buried deep inside Hermione. He shifted his body so he shielded her from the elf. ‘Come back later.’

The house-elf disappeared with another crack, and Draco turned his attention back to Hermione. She threw her hands over her eyes, just as the house-elf had done, as she felt a blush heat her face. She heard Draco chuckle, and he pulled her hands away, dropping a gentle kiss on each closed eyelid before pinning her wrists back above her head. Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes again, and any mortification she felt at being caught _in flagrante_ melted away under the intensity of adoration and possessiveness in Draco’s gaze. Instead, she tried to relax back on the pillows, Draco’s dick filling her completely. His fingers returned to her clit. He was soon sending delightful tremors through her body, and it wasn’t long before she was panting and struggling against his hand around her wrists.

‘Come for me, Hermione,’ Draco growled, his lips at the bite mark on her neck, sending a jolt of ecstasy right to her core. _He’s mine_ , her omega voice seemed to whisper from far back in her mind. _Mine_. ‘Come around my cock.’

As if his words were all she needed to push her over the edge, she sobbed as she felt her body tense and then dissolve as he carried on thrusting deep into her.

‘Good girl,’ he breathed, thrusting once more and groaning as his own orgasm hit.

He fell onto her, and they lay locked together for several moments, breathing heavily in the quiet of the room. As Hermione’s breathing slowly evened and her body relaxed once more, she realised he hadn’t knotted this time, presumably because she wasn’t in heat. 

She was mortified to realise she had wanted him to. 

She felt overwhelmed by how much she didn’t know. About her as an omega, about Draco as an alpha, about the dynamics and mechanics that were at play between them.

She pushed against Draco’s chest, and he reluctantly pulled himself out of her, looking at her with something akin to hurt.

‘You have to get ready to see your father,’ she reminded him, not wanting to examine too deeply the tug she felt at her heart that his expression caused. ‘And I would really like a bath.’ 

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

‘Of course, you must be starving as well. Use the bathroom here, Libby will bring you some clean clothes, and I’ll get a kitchen elf to bring you something to eat. I’ll go and use one of the guest bathrooms.’

He had already climbed off the bed, leaving her lying there naked on his sheets with his seed still dripping down her thighs. She caught the satisfied look on his face as his eyes swept over her before pulling on his discarded trousers and picking up the bottle Libby had dropped. He read the label on it, and a small frown flickered across his brow. He cradled the bottle possessively to his chest.

‘What is that?’ Hermione asked, suspicion growing when his eyes turned dark and his lip curled at her. He took a step back, but something cleared in his eyes. He looked at the bottle again, his hand trembling. He threw it to Hermione, and she caught it easily, turning it over in her hands. The words _contraceptive potion_ were scrawled on the parchment label.

_Fuck_. That was certainly something she needed to take care of, although she wasn’t sure how she felt about drinking an untested potion given to her by the Malfoys. She threw a hard look at Draco, who was watching her with a guarded expression and a small frown on his face.

‘You didn’t want me to take this?’ she asked cautiously. ‘You really wouldn’t care about having an accidental bastard child with a “Mudblood”?’

Draco’s eyes darkened again when she used the slur, and he took a step forward. Hermione drew in a sharp breath, worried she’d antagonised him. These flashes she kept seeing of his alpha side tore her apart inside, flooding her with both fear and desire.

In an instant he had crossed the room, crowding her onto the bed and caging her between his arms. He groaned as he sniffed at the gland at her neck.

‘You’re mine now,’ he said, his voice a growl that sent a tremor through her body too electric to be from fear. ‘And one day your stomach _will_ swell with my pups.’

_Yes, yes_ , a voice in the back of Hermione’s head pleaded, but she pushed it away with difficulty and glared up at Draco, who was still hovering over her.

‘Malfoy,’ she hissed. ‘This isn’t really you speaking. Think about what you’re saying.’

He pulled back then, giving her space, as confusion flitted across his expression.

‘I – fuck,’ he muttered, combing a hand through his hair. His face fell, and he looked young again - young and helpless and scared. He stalked off to the other side of his room, his back to her.

‘Take the damn potion, Hermione,’ he hissed through gritted teeth. She saw his broad shoulders rise and fall as he breathed in and out, and when he turned around again his face was carefully blank, devoid of emotion.

Was Draco an Occlumens?

He caught her staring at him and shifted his weight.

‘What is it?’ he asked warily.

Well, he _had_ said he wouldn’t deny her anything, right? Maybe she could work this to her advantage.

She got off the bed, not bothering to try and hide her nakedness. By this time, was there really any point? She clearly couldn’t deny Draco either. 

An academic part of her wondered how much power she really had over him. A more physical part of her ached simply to touch him again, to lay her hands on him and claim him once more despite pushing him away only moments before. 

Hermione walked up to him, running her hand up his chest and reached up to cradle the back of his neck, yanking him down so she could lick the scent gland on his neck. Draco shivered under her touch, his hands reaching for her.

‘My wand,’ she murmured brokenly, letting a hitch creep into her voice. ‘I dropped it in the forest that first night. My wand, Draco. I’ve had it since I was eleven.’

He stiffened against her and then relaxed, sweeping his arms around her in a rough embrace.

‘Leave it with me,’ he said, and she breathed out in relief. He disentangled himself from her, kissed her gently on the lips, and then he was gone, leaving her alone in his room with only a bottle of contraceptive potion for company.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, Draco didn’t want to become attached to anything, living or inanimate. Didn’t want to prepare for the future. Didn’t want to reveal the real him, even in the safety of his own bedroom.
> 
> What kind of alpha, what kind of Death Eater, didn’t flaunt his status and power at every chance he got?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thank you for your patience in my updating of this fic! I am still working away at it when I get the chance, and will update when I can although it will be erratic. Huge thanks as well to everyone who has kudosed and commented! I don't always get chance to respond to comments but please know they brighten my day and I appreciate every one of them. Hope you enjoy! x

The instant Draco left, Hermione got to work. She wanted to start off investigating his rooms, but she decided she would have to bathe first. She was sticky and uncomfortable, dried sweat and come covering her body.

Draco’s bathroom, when she pushed open the door and peered inside, was just as grand and carefully characterless as his bedroom. Clawfoot bathtub, a shower inlaid with green marble, and a stack of soft, fluffy, delightfully clean towels held under a warming charm had Hermione sighing in delight. She turned on the taps to the bathtub, and finding them to be magically spelled so the water came tumbling out already pink and scented. She caught the scent of jasmine, her favourite, and wondered whether the spell changed depending on who was running the bath. Letting the water run, Hermione turned to the floor-length mirror behind her, and removed the shirt she’d pulled back on when Draco had left.

She stifled a gasp with the palm of her hand, her brown eyes widening as they were reflected back to her. Her usually creamy skin was covered in bite marks and bruises, striking symbols of violent possession that both sickened her and sent shivers of desire down her spine. Slowly she watched her reflection as she raised her fingers to a particularly vicious-looking bruise in the shape of Draco’s teeth on the curve of her breast. She could feel the dents from the bite, embedded in her skin.

A wave of revulsion erupted from her stomach, and she spun on her heel, away from the visible reminder of what happened in the forest. And again earlier, just the other side of the bathroom door, Hermione reminded herself.

The bath was already nearly full, and Hermione shut off the taps and climbed into the water. It was almost too hot, and she could feel the heat crawling like Fiendfyre under her skin. She started to flush an angry-looking red, but she focused on the pain as she grabbed a sponge and scrubbed at her skin. When she had scrubbed every inch of skin twice over, feeling raw and red hot and uncomfortable, she washed her hair before forcing herself to stay in the hot water, breathing heavily through the discomfort, grateful for the distraction from her panicked thoughts.

Eventually the water turned lukewarm, and Hermione pulled herself out of the bath. She wrapped one of the warm towels around her, and another around her hair. She wandered out of the bathroom, walking over to Draco’s tall mahogany wardrobe and peering inside. She couldn’t find a bathrobe of any kind among the bland, uniform clothes that hung there. Instead she pulled down one of the spotless white shirts that hung from the top rail, slipping it around her body and buttoning it up all the way. It fell to mid-thigh, but she also rummaged around in the chest of drawers until she uncovered a pair of dark green trunks that she pulled up over her hips.

It was a relief to be clean for the first time in weeks. As Hermione wandered around Draco’s room, trailing her hand over the window frames, the mantlepiece, the elegant furniture, she realised she could still smell him. A frown crossing her face, Hermione raised an arm and sniffed the skin of her forearm.

She definitely still had traces of Draco’s scent on her.

She remembered Narcissa Malfoy entering the drawing room and how Lucius’ scent swirled around her own, and sighed unhappily. Clearly, Draco Malfoy was an inescapable part of her now, whether she liked it or not.

As she continued her slow perusal of Draco’s room, hopelessly devoid of either weaponry or personality, her gaze caught on glass glinting in the weak sunlight that streamed through the windows.

The small stoppered bottle sat where she’d left it on the bedside table. Hermione perched on the edge of the high mattress, the bed an empty wasteland without Draco to fill it, and picked up the bottle.

It was cold in her hand, and she uncorked the bottle and took a cautious sniff.

A faint scent of raspberries and mugwort emanated from the amber liquid, and Hermione forced her mind back to Potions class. They’d never been taught contraceptive potions - Hermione vaguely remembered reading something about them being on the curriculum for final year - but she couldn’t think of any contraindications for mugwort and raspberry.

She gave the viscous liquid another look, and before she could question too hard, she opened her mouth and tipped the whole vial into her mouth, swallowing the bitter liquid without a second thought.

The last thing she needed while imprisoned and in the middle of a war was to fall pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s bastard child.

A tentative rap on the door made her drop the bottle in shock as she leapt to her feet, her heart beating louder than the knocking. She cautiously made her way over to the door, her skin prickling nervously as she did. Another delicate rap echoed through the room, and Hermione pulled the shirt she’d stolen from Draco’s wardrobe tighter around her body.

With a nervous gulp, she reached for the door. Draco hadn’t told her to not let anyone in, but then he hadn’t exactly prepared her for a visit, either. As she cautiously twisted the door handle, finding it unlocked, she pulled the door open.

Narcissa Malfoy stood on the other side, looking every inch a Pureblood queen. Libby was by her side, a sewing basket in her hands, and she gave Hermione a fleeting but friendly grin. Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow at Hermione.

‘May I come in?’ Narcissa asked, and, stunned into silence, Hermione nodded. Narcissa swept past her, as regal as any Muggle queen, and stood in the centre of Draco’s room, watching Hermione with a small, inscrutable smile. ‘I appreciate these are… delicate times,’ Narcissa said, and her voice was soft and kind. ‘But I wanted to make sure you were comfortable and have settled in as best you can.’

Hermione just stood, stupid and speechless, as the Malfoy matriarch gave her a motherly smile. To her horror, she felt a hot tear threaten to escape from behind her eyelid, and she looked down, blinking furiously to get rid of it before Narcissa saw.

‘Now then, my dear,’ Narcissa said, pulling free her wand. She aimed it at the low coffee table in front of the fireplace and waved it with a flourish, and a tea set appeared. Without being told, Libby ran forward and started to pour tea as Narcissa took Hermione’s elbow and led her gently to the two high-backed winged armchairs around the table. ‘Omegas do not cry, and Malfoy women certainly don’t,’ she said firmly, accepting a teacup from Libby.

Libby handed another one to Hermione, and she took it from her with a small muttered ‘thanks’. She took a sip, relishing the simple comfort of a warm cup of tea. There was a delicate scent to it, and Hermione recognised it as darjeeling.

Her mother’s favourite tea.

Stifling another tear, Hermione looked into the pale golden liquid.

‘I’ve only known I’m an omega for a few weeks,’ she said, her voice quiet. ‘And I’m not a Malfoy.’

Narcissa sipped on her own tea, giving Hermione an appraising look.

‘There may have been no marriage vows, dear, but the bond between an alpha and omega is no less serious.’

Hermione lifted her head sharply, nearly spilling her tea in her hurry to look at Narcissa. As usual, the other woman’s expression was serene and calm, as if she wasn’t hinting at something as enormous as an enslaved Mudblood becoming as good as her daughter-in-law.

‘You don’t have to take the name, Hermione,’ Narcissa said now, a wry grin painting her lips, ‘but you’ll find that socially, legally, and, more importantly, _magically_ , you and Draco are bonded to the equivalent of being married. You are part of this family now.’

Hermione regarded Narcissa carefully, curiosity temporarily overcoming any lingering terror she had.

‘And you don’t mind that?’ Hermione asked, as her tea gradually went cold in her hands. ‘I’m a _Muggleborn_. From the other side of the war,’ she added, as if Narcissa Malfoy were not already intimately acquainted with this fact.

‘Hermione, dear,’ Narcissa said now, gently placing her teacup back down on the coffee table. ‘I don’t think you quite realise how incredibly rare omegas are. I never thought my son would know the utter _wholeness_ of a bond like the one Lucius and I have together, and it’s always been a source of unhappiness for me. I would give Draco _anything_ ,’ she added, her eyes flashing with maternal fierceness, a mother dragon defending her young. Her gaze softened again when she refocused on Hermione. ‘I know this is incredibly tough for you, for both of you. You have a lifetime of prejudice to overcome, a childhood enmity to reconcile. But, Hermione.’ Here Narcissa reached out, taking Hermione’s hand in her own. ‘Hermione, I know that together, the two of you will be formidable. Unstoppable. With you by Draco’s side, I think you can bring this war to a faster end.’

Narcissa’s eyes gleamed so eagerly, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably as she slowly extricated her hand, fury rising in her veins.

So, Narcissa Malfoy thought that Hermione could be turned, did she?

That being stupidly, magically bonded to Draco _sodding_ Malfoy would eventually blind her to the evil being done by Voldemort and his Death Eaters every day? That she would forgive and forget the murders and tortures of her friends? Stiffening her back, she gave Narcissa a cool glance.

‘Well, if I am truly as part of this family as you claim, Mrs Malfoy, then perhaps you’d do me the dignity of feeding me and clothing me.’ Hermione channeled as much of Draco’s imperious aloofness as she could, and Narcissa blinked in surprise and sat back as if physically affected by Hermione’s words.

‘Of course, my dear.’ Narcissa turned to Libby. ‘Libby, please will you take the measurements you need from Miss Granger,’ she added, and Libby leapt forward, taking Hermione’s hand and tugging her to her feet.

‘Come, mistress,’ the elf squeaked, positioning Hermione where she wanted her and pulling a magical tape measure from the little sewing box she’d brought with her. The tape measure started to measure Hermione of its own accord, giving her a flashback to being measured for her wand by Ollivander. A lump rose in throat as she thought of the familiar vinewood, and she found herself hoping against hope that Draco would make good on his promise to find and return her wand.

When Libby finished measuring her, the tiny elf turned to the coffee table and clicked her fingers. The tea service disappeared, replaced immediately with a feast fit for a queen - or a Malfoy, at least. Hermione’s stomach grumbled instantly, and Narcissa gave her another small smile.

‘I’ll have some clothes sent up for you. Enjoy your food, my dear, and Libby will be here to serve you if you need her.’

‘That’s right, mistress!’ Libby said, gazing up at Hermione with big, innocent eyes. ‘Any time you need anything, you call for Libby and Libby will come.’

Hermione smiled her thanks, and managed to stand still as she watched Narcissa and the house-elf leave Draco’s rooms. The second the door to Draco’s bedroom closed once again, Hermione fell on the food with the ravenous hunger of a starved wolf, her head spinning but her spirit on fire.

* * *

Hermione ate and drank every single thing Libby had summoned, and immediately fell asleep in the armchair, exhausted and full. When she woke again her neck was stiff from sleeping at a funny angle, and she groaned as the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows hurt her eyes.

Carefully stretching out her body, grimacing as a joint in her neck popped, Hermione gave Draco’s room a slow look around. She spotted a neatly wrapped parcel on the freshly-made bed: Libby must have come back while Hermione was sleeping. Climbing stiffly to her feet, Hermione made her way to the parcel, unwrapping it. She held out a set of elegant dress robes in pale green, and hid a grimace as she held them up against her body.

Narcissa Malfoy seemed determined to mould Hermione into a perfect, Pureblood-passing daughter-in-law, complete with a wardrobe that wouldn’t be out of place in a wizarding _Pride and Prejudice_ remake.

For a few seconds Hermione considered staying dressed only in Draco’s shirt, but sense soon overcame stubbornness and with a resigned sigh she quickly got changed, pulling the robes in place so they flowed over her hips, falling to her ankles. There was a pair of heeled ankle boots in the package too, and Hermione pulled them on and laced them up. 

Modestly dressed, full, clean and rested, Hermione glanced around the room with renewed determination.

There must be _something_ here she could use.

A weapon, an escape route, a scrap of information. Even some measure of personality that could give her a glimmer of an idea of Draco’s mind.

She started back in the bathroom, but the window was magically sealed, the cabinets securely attached to the walls. Hermione supposed she could smash the mirror, or the one in the bedroom, but to what end? Far better to wait and pray Draco returned her wand than rely on a Muggle weapon. Even if she could overpower an alpha without magic, what hope would she have surviving in Malfoy Manor beyond this room?

At this stage, weapons and escape were almost useless. Far better to wait, and watch, and weave a slow and considered plan, than to charge headlong into trouble.

Hermione tried to ignore the twinge in her heart she felt when she realised Harry would have argued the complete opposite.

Pushing the thought of him far back into her mind, Hermione focused on her present situation.

Information, then. A clue to Draco’s true nature. Something she could use as an in, something to lull him into thinking she really did have feelings for him.

As if sensing her deceitful intent, the room gave her nothing.

The silver-framed wizarding photographs revealed nothing new: one was of his parents, stern and elegant, dressed for a ball, and the other was Draco in third of fourth year, before things got really bad, with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle smiling on either side of him.

The books on the bookshelves were all pristine, unbroken first editions of wizarding books and novels. Not a single one showed any sign of having been read, or even idly thumbed through. She saw no reminders of Hogwarts in the room, no Slytherin pennants or school books, nothing beyond a set of pressed Slytherin Quidditch robes hanging at the very back of Draco’s wardrobe. His clothes were all black, white, and occasional hints of green, all stiff and formal. The bedside cupboards, empty of anything at all.

The only thing she found, while scouring every nook and cranny, was a tiny scrap of parchment under the ink blotter on his writing desk. The parchment had a trace of ink on it, a scrawl that looked like the start of a signature. Hermione squinted, trying to make out a letter. _I_ , maybe? A _T_? She couldn’t be sure, and let it fall back to the table with a sigh.

The whole of Draco’s room was as carefully bland and blank as his guarded eyes, as if his Occlumency expanded beyond his self and into his surroundings.

Maybe that was a clue in itself, Hermione considered as she pulled one of the books free and cracked open the spine. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and started to read.

For some reason, Draco didn’t want to become attached to anything, living or inanimate. Didn’t want to prepare for the future. Didn’t want to reveal the real him, even in the safety of his own bedroom.

What kind of alpha, what kind of Death Eater, didn’t flaunt his status and power at every chance he got?

* * *

It was almost dark by the time Draco returned. He stalked into the room without knocking - it was his room, Hermione supposed, but he still made her jump, hand leaping to her heart like a heroine in a regency novel with a delicate constitution.

It was the first time she had seen Draco fully clothed since all this had happened, Hermione realised as he came to a halt in the centre of the bedroom, his cold grey eyes settling on her where she sat in the armchair by the fire.

He was dressed entirely in black, from his heavy boots to his wand holster to his swirling cloak; black as night and shadows and death.

It didn’t suit him, Hermione thought sadly.

Draco - _her_ Draco, her omega growled from the back of her mind - was a softer kind of dark. The dark grey of storm clouds, the dark blue of an angry ocean, the dark green of a forest at twilight. For a moment her mind wandered, remembering him naked against the emerald green of his bedsheets earlier that day. The green that softened his sharp eyes and flattered his luminous skin.

Her daydreaming was rudely interrupted when Draco’s eyes narrowed and a poorly-stifled smirk appeared on his lips. She felt her forehead pull into a frown, and she slammed her book closed and dropped it on the table.

‘What?’ she asked warily, mentally preparing for a fight.

Draco shook his head as he unclipped his cloak. ‘It’s just… what are you wearing?’ he replied incredulously, and Hermione looked down at her pale green robes. She gave a short laugh and stood up so he could see how they fell to her ankles.

‘A gift from your mother,’ she explained, and Draco groaned as if in sudden understanding. ‘She seems to think this is what all the well-bred Pureblood women are wearing, and apparently I have to conform now I’m your mate.’

She said this last part with a snarl, and Draco’s eyes narrowed warningly. For a brief moment she wondered if he was going to chastise her; maybe make her promise never to speak ill of his mother again. He held his tongue, however, and instead drew his wand from its holster. For the second time that day, Draco Malfoy knelt by her feet.

‘Here,’ he said gruffly, and pointed his wand at her legs. A soft swish and a few murmured words later, and the billowing skirts of the robes started to shrink and reshape. A few seconds later, they had reformed, and Draco got back to his feet and gently pulled her so she was facing the full-length mirror besides his wardrobe. ‘How’s that?’

Hermione looked at her reflection. Instead of the robes, she was now dressed in high-waisted woollen trousers, nipped in with a wide leather belt that a pale green shirt was tucked into. High, soft, leather boots encased her lower legs. She managed to look elegant and poised, and the outfit reminded her slightly of a riding habit of a progressive Victorian lady.

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, and looked up at Draco thoughtfully.

He’d give her clothes his mother would still approve of, that made her look the epitome of Pureblood elegance, but also clothes she could move in. Climb in, run in, _fight_ in, if necessary. Clothes that made her feel a little bit more in control. She felt relief and gratefulness flood her body, and her omega positively purred in delight.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and a sliver of a smile appeared on Draco’s lips. He didn’t reply, but did reach into a pocket and pulled out a length of wood.

‘For you,’ he offered, and Hermione, her breath caught in desperate anticipation, took it from him. The wood was worn smooth and warm under her hand, the weight and balance of the length as familiar to her as her own limbs. The vinewood and dragon heartstring wand she’d had for almost half a lifetime.

It came to life at her touch, a shower of bluebell-coloured sparks trailing from the end, and Hermione looked up at Draco again, a thick lump in her throat making it almost impossible to breathe, let alone speak.

Draco just looked down at her with a tenderness in his eyes she’d never seen before, his hand slowly raising to rest gently against her cheek. Against every logical instinct that screamed at her to stay defensive, to keep her distance, she pressed against his touch, her body singing.

It may have only been a few hours since she last saw him - since he’d fucked her for Merlin knows what time - but Hermione’s body sang for his like a wolf to the full moon.

Draco’s eyes darkened, and with a speed she couldn’t follow, he swept her up into his arms, like she belonged there, capturing her lips in a long, desperate kiss. He carried her back to the bed, lips and arms entangled, and then set them both down on the mattress. Hermione whined as she clambered up over him, straddling his lap, hating herself but unable to stop. She ground her hips against his, biting his lower lip, greedily swallowing his groans, wrapping her hands in his gorgeous, silky, stupidly _perfect_ blond hair.

With a low, warning growl, Draco pushed her away, even as he chased her kiss. Hermione whined again, pawing at him, her mind nearly blank with renewed lust as her omega purred happily, but Draco’s hands locked onto her hips and he lifted her and set her on her feet on the floor.

He followed her up, his eyes shifting from dazed and blackened to carefully blank.

It sent a sudden, irrational wave of irritation through Hermione. How _dare_ he Occlude around her? Wasn’t she supposed to be his mate? Shouldn’t he let her in, not wear a mask around her?

‘Not now, Granger,’ he said, his voice stiff and brittle. She knew she was pouting, but she didn’t care. Let him see how he had upset her. How he had upset his omega.

After all, What could be so important he would deny his very own mate?

Draco sighed and pulled himself to his full, imposing height. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. She supposed that worked well with other wizards, showing off his size and height and general alpha-ness, but it wasn’t going to work with her.

The next words he spoke made her knees weaken and her breath catch in her throat, but not with lust and passion like moments before.

‘We’ve been summoned for an immediate audience,’ Draco said, his voice firm and carefully neutral. ‘With the Dark Lord.’

Hermione’s knees gave way, and Draco’s strong arms caught her before she could hit the floor.


End file.
